Faith ... in Verse

faith

beyond my grasp,
trying to peer into unseen, unknown.
future fading,
falling through fear.

words fail me,
choked before birth,
mind running dry--
a rocky pass
too daunting to attempt.

reaching through mist,
I dare to
touch His Face,
as He lifts
gentle, bloodstained fingertips
to dry my every tear.

That Flighty Temptress, Imagination

This week's Carry On Tuesday's prompt (#39) was taken from the Andrew Lloyd Weber musical Phantom of the Opera -- from the haunting song "The Music of the Night":

"Night-time sharpens, heightens sensation.
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination."

This poem came out *far* more sensual than any I have ever written. Don't be too shocked, k?

Muse of the Night
stirred by darkness,
sharpened by night,
Imagination wakes.

an elusive temptress--
demanding much,
frigid in response.

rarely,
sensations heightened,
gasping in pleasured waves,
she releases
image upon image
so freely
that mind and pen
can scarcely embrace all.

Copyright 2010 by Susanne Barrett

Fruit of a Grateful Heart...

Greek Ampitheater, Point Loma Nazarene University

Continuing my journey to 1000 Gifts as part of the Gratitude Community...

81. For bare cupboards filled to overflowing this week

82. For God's incredible provision and grace

83. For Elizabeth's college decision to attend Point Loma Nazarene University, my alma mater and former employer where I taught for a few years

84. For sweet friends whom God is using for our provision

85. For incredible worship with the Anglicans and The Book of Common Prayer

86. For Irish Breakfast tea ... "the nectar of the gods"

87. For flannel sheets and flannel comforters and flannel pj's and flannel everything!

88. For ink and paper and words and poetry and all things bright and beautiful!

89. For a *very* full online poetry class at Brave Writer this month

90. For all the readers of this blog who encourage me so greatly, just by stopping by and occasionally leaving a comment....

Sunday Meditation: Dressed in Gentleness

Dressed in Gentleness by Henri Nouwen

Once in a while we meet a gentle person. Gentleness is a virtue hard to find in a society that admires toughness and roughness. We are encouraged to get things done and to get them done fast, even when people get hurt in the process. Success, accomplishment, and productivity count. But the cost is high. There is no place for gentleness in such a milieu.

Gentle is the one who does "not break the crushed reed, or snuff the faltering wick" (Matthew 12:20). Gentle is the one who is attentive to the strengths and weaknesses of the other and enjoys being together more than accomplishing something. A gentle person treads lightly, listens carefully, looks tenderly, and touches with reverence. A gentle person knows that true growth requires nurture, not force. Let's dress ourselves with gentleness. In our tough and often unbending world our gentleness can be a vivid reminder of the presence of God among us.

                                                           -- Henri Nouwen, Daily Meditation

Writing and Not Writing

Last Sunday we experienced a truly "Beautiful Day" as our former worship and youth pastor at Lake Murray, Rollo Casiple, his lovely wife Sarah, and one of their sons returned to Lake Murray from their home church in Miami, La Vina.

As we chatted together after Rollo's sermon and a carne asada/pollo asado taco fundraiser for the youth group, Rollo turned to me and asked me about my book.

My book.

The book that lives and breathes in my daily life but remains in my mind, unwritten.

Yes, I lead a busy, busy life with homeschooling four children, teaching two co-op classes at Class Day, teaching two online classes a quarter at Brave Writer plus writing two monthly literature subscriptions, plus Logos (Lake Murray's monthly literary discussion group), Mountain Empire Creative Arts Council events including a monthly Writers' Workshop, and a group in our town starting a community garden.

I love to write. Writing here in this blog is a blessing, a (nearly) daily discipline that stretches me and keeps me focused on the art and craft of writing. I try to write at least one poem a week, some more successful than others. I've worked on a novel for the past two Novembers through NaNoWriMo.

But my nonfiction book sits there in my mind and in a file on my laptop. The book idea came about when I was asked in 2006 to speak at our women's retreat at Lake Murray on contemplative prayer. I did tons of research in the months preceding the late March retreat, "unschooling" the kids during that time so that I could focus on research. After writing the retreat materials, I realized that I had much more material than I could ever use in a weekend retreat. In fact, I had the beginnings of a book, a book that teaches evangelical Christians the value of liturgy in public and private worship.

I have laid out an outline. But I simply haven't had time to research more deeply in these areas in order to write chapters that can also be published separately in article form.

I did take the main ideas of the book and turned it into the NaNoWriMo novel I've worked on for the past two years, with a character learning about the liturgical church. In this way, I haven't had to support my ideas academically so much as follow my character in her experiences.

Here is my planned outline:
Tentative Outline: Light of Liturgy

Introduction: background, testimony, summary of main points
Chapter 1: Church Unity (worldwide communion of believers united)
Chapter 2: Saints (worship vs. veneration)
Chapter 3: Icons (idols or windows to heaven?)
Chapter 4: Church Calendar (celebrating Christ and His Saints all year long)
Chapter 5: Church Sanctuaries (worship via the five senses)
Chapter 6: Sign of the Cross (only for Catholics?)
Chapter 7: Scripture (prevalence in worship)
Chapter 8: Prayer Books (vain repetition?)
Chapter 9: Contemplative Prayer (solitude, silence, centering prayer)
Chapter 10: Confession (value of confession for church unity)
Chapter 11: Communion (symbolic elements vs. real presence)
Conclusion

I also had the idea of writing a separate book on living the Christian Year, covering:

Adventide
Christmastide
Epiphanytide
Ordinary Time
Ash Wednesday
Lent
Pam Sunday
Holy Week: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday Vigil
Eastertide
Ascension
Pentecost
Trinity
Ordinary Time
Transfiguration
All Saints/All Souls

So I suppose that I actually have two books simmering. But I'm afraid that with my busy schedule and having to "measure out my [strength] with coffee spoons" because of my autoimmune issues, I just don't see that I will be able to truly devote myself to working on these books until I graduate a kid or two from our homeschool. I just hope that these topics will still be as popular then as they are now. We shall see....

The Enigma That Was J.D. Salinger

Like every other high school student in the early 1980's, I read J.D.Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye in English class. I didn't like it. Literary characters become real people for me, at least for the time that my nose and mind are buried in the book world in which they live ... and die. And Holden Caufield was not someone I would ever like, could ever be friends with. His self-absorbtion was boring and his language disgusting. I cringed a lot while reading Catcher, bombarded by this character who walked all over me, not caring that he left huge bruised footprints in his wake. I put down the book with relief when it was finally finished and was absurdly grateful that my English teacher, Mr. Sebastian, was not requiring a paper to be written on Holden. I tried re-reading Catcher in my more mature twenties and set the book aside in disgust after ten pages. Holden and I were simply not going to be friends, and the less I saw of him, the better. And so has our relationship remained.

But in the 1980's, a co-worker at B. Dalton was a huge Salinger fan. Susan and I both appreciated reading "real literature" versus the mass media slop available. She tended toward the more modern literature of Updike and Atwood while I remained enconsced in the nineteenth century novels of Austen, the Brontes, Wilkie Collins, and Elizabeth Gaskell. But we both knew good stuff when we ran across it and shared with each other generously; while I harkened her back to the nineteenth century, she dragged me forward into the twentieth.

And her favorite author was ... Salinger. Of course.

But not Catcher in the Rye.

Susan opened to me a whole new world of Salinger. She started me slowly with Nine Stories, most of which involved the eccentric Glass family -- child prodigies who had been on a radio game show in the 1930's and now struggled with living in a world in which their genius was more encumbrance than blessing. The most shocking tale is the first story, "A Perfect Day for Bananafish." Oh, it seems tame enough ... until the last paragraph, even the last sentence. Through these stories we gain glimpses into the life of an extraordinary family who can't live well in an ordinary world.

Here's a link to introduce you to the Glass family or refresh your memory: The Glass family.

The above article reminds us that all of the Glass family stories but one were first printed in The New Yorker, that erudite home of erudite writers. They were collected into several books: Nine Stories, Franny and Zooey, Raise High the Roofbeam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction. The influence of eastern mysticism pervades the books, both via Buddhism and the Eastern Orthodoxy Christian faith. Several of the Glass "children" discuss the Eastern Christian classic The Way of the Pilgrim (which I read a few years ago) and the contemplative Jesus Prayer: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

As a young woman who had grown up without a great deal of religious influence (although I became a Christian at age 8 after attending a Mormon Sunday service with neighbors), the brief glimpses of Christianity in Salinger's books drew me into them as I hungered and thirsted for glimpses of Christ. Probably not the effect he was striving for as a writer, but one I valued nevertheless. (I had the same reaction to any songs that mentioned Jesus or God, but that's another post.)

So with Salinger's death last week, I find myself mulling over the conundrum that Susan posed to me all those years ago throughout the 1980's when we worked at B. Dalton. Susan stated one night that she couldn't decide: did she want Salinger to live a long life after which all the stories and books he had composed over the years would at long last be published, or did she wish him a short life so she could get her hands on his supposed books that much sooner, even if he had written fewer works? We both decided at long last that we wished Salinger a long life, hoping desperately for two things:

1. That he kept writing all these years since his last publication in the early 1960's, and

2. That he had arranged to have those stories and books (if they exist) published posthumously.

Since he has indeed lived a long life, passing away last week at the age of 91, we can only hope for additional stories and books to be added to the Salinger canon. And I hope for more stories of the eccentric Glass family as seen through the eyes of Buddy Glass, the "sane" brother who narrated so many of the stories and may have even "written" Salinger's so-called masterpiece, The Catcher in the Rye.

Over the weekend I found a wonderful article about Salinger and his reclusivity: Seaching for Salinger But Finding Something Better. Enjoy!

Walking with Him in Solitude

David Lorenz Winston, "Solitude"

Solitude. That rare commodity. In the rush and whirl that is mothering and homeschooling, I am surrounded by people all day. Precious people, yes. But my deep-of-deeps yearns for that uncommon thing: solitude.

In dark hours past midnight in our sleeping house, I breathe in the aloneness, knowing all the while that the dawning will birth an exhausted mother and teacher. Yet those few moments "scratched in the dark," as Ann Voskamp writes, somehow refresh my soul, re-energizing me to face another day surrounded by people, people I love.

As a borderline introvert/extrovert, I need people in my life, thrive on having people in my life. Yet the introvert side of me yearns for the holy ground of time apart, time alone.  

Time to let thoughts flow, perhaps flow from mind to pen to paper.

Time to bask in quiet rather than drown in noise.

Time to listen with keen soul rather than talk.

Time to meditate, to turn mind to things eternal.

Time to turn ear and heart to Him who holds me in the palm of His hand.

But in the busy-ness of common days, minutes and hours slip through time and space, disappearing from present into past -- unstoppable. Voices, sounds, noise distract, drowning the calm core of being where serenity and solitude dwell, blessed by the Hand of God.

I long for abbey or monastery -- just for a few days. A few days of silence, of prayer, of allowing the calm core to emerge in safety, protected by walls and prayer and Word.

The Beauty of Word who lives in noise and in silence, in crowd and in solitude, Who meets us wherever, whenever. We only have to ask.

"The Greatest Show on Earth"

This week's Carry On Tuesday prompt is a quotation from Martin H. Fischer: "Life is a ticket to the greatest show on earth." Almost immediately I received an image of a father rushing under a banner or sign, holding a daughter by each hand. I twisted it around (as poems should be) and am still working with it. It's a work in progress, but I wanted to post what I have done while I have time.

"The Greatest Show on Earth"
His hands gripped theirs too tightly
as they passed the flashing words:
"The Greatest Show on Earth."
In a weak attempt to escape
his still-radiating fury,
the older girl cringed from his side.

Again,
as they were preparing to go--
his whiplike fist,
her mother's muffled cry,
her low sobbing.
Ungently grasping small hands,
he hurried them to the weather-beaten car.

The long-anticipated day
now marred with fear:
of his lightning anger
of bruises now purpling their mother's face.
Home alone, the woman has time --
to regather shreds of herself,
to regain hard-won calm,
to put on the old show
belied by violet eye.

Little girl fixes tear-welling eyes
on the cavalcade before her:
sparkly costumes on beautiful ladies,
brave feats of derring-do,
huge-footed clowns, smiling faces painted on,
tigers,
elephants,
camels,
monkeys --
all shapes blurring strangely
as she tries to forget.

Her younger sister claps hands,
unaware of barely-masked pain--
of a family cracking apart with
each professional smile,
each dangerous feat performed,
each graceful bow taken--
dancing, twirling, leaping, spinning
out of control....

Copyright 2010 by Susanne Barrett.

Presentation of Christ in the Temple and Candlemas

In the secular world, today, February 2nd, is a day when a shy animal may or may not see his shadow, supposedly predicting the possible end of winter now ... or in six weeks. Groundhog Day.

But in the Christian realm, today is a most important day. Forty days after the birth of God's son, His human parents presented the Christ Child at the Temple, bringing the required sacrifice: two young pigeons. In the Gospel according to Saint Luke, Mary and Joseph, their miraculous Son in their arms, meet two incredible people of God, Simeon and Anna:

Luke 2: 22-38 (English Standard Version): 22 And when the time came for their purification according to the Law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord 23 (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, “Every male who first opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord”) 24 and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the Law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons.” 25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. 26 And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ. 27 And he came in the Spirit into the temple, and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the Law, 28 he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,

29 “Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
according to your word;
30 for my eyes have seen your salvation
31 that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and for glory to your people Israel.”

33 And his father and his mother marveled at what was said about him. 34 And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed 35 (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”

36 And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived with her husband seven years from when she was a virgin, 37 and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. 38 And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.

The Saint of the Day e-mail from American Catholic for today reads:

At the end of the fourth century, a woman named Etheria made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Her journal, discovered in 1887, gives an unprecedented glimpse of liturgical life there. Among the celebrations she describes is the Epiphany (January 6), the observance of Christ’s birth, and the gala procession in honor of his Presentation in the Temple 40 days later—February 15. (Under the Mosaic Law, a woman was ritually “unclean” for 40 days after childbirth, when she was to present herself to the priests and offer sacrifice—her “purification.” Contact with anyone who had brushed against mystery—birth or death—excluded a person from Jewish worship.) This feast emphasizes Jesus’ first appearance in the Temple more than Mary’s purification.

The observance spread throughout the Western Church in the fifth and sixth centuries. Because the Church in the West celebrated Jesus’ birth on December 25, the Presentation was moved to February 2, 40 days after Christmas.

At the beginning of the eighth century, Pope Sergius inaugurated a candlelight procession; at the end of the same century the blessing and distribution of candles which continues to this day became part of the celebration, giving the feast its popular name: Candlemas.

Comment:
In Luke’s account, Jesus was welcomed in the temple by two elderly people, Simeon and the widow Anna. They embody Israel in their patient expectation; they acknowledge the infant Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah. Early references to the Roman feast dub it the feast of St. Simeon, the old man who burst into a song of joy which the Church still sings at day’s end.

Quote:
“Christ himself says, ‘I am the light of the world.’ And we are the light, we ourselves, if we receive it from him.... But how do we receive it, how do we make it shine? ...[T]he candle tells us: by burning, and being consumed in the burning. A spark of fire, a ray of love, an inevitable immolation are celebrated over that pure, straight candle, as, pouring forth its gift of light, it exhausts itself in silent sacrifice” (Paul VI).

The Collect from the 1928 Book of Common Prayer:

ALMIGHTY and everliving God, we humbly beseech thy Majesty, that, as thy only-begotten Son was this day presented in the temple in substance of our flesh, so we may be presented unto thee with pure and clean hearts, by the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

When I think of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, my imagination pictures Mary. The young mother, finally declared "clean" according to Judaic Law, enters the Temple with the sacrific required of the poor, her husband's protective arm about her. As they enter, an old man, holy and devout, proclaims this Child's future in ringing words. I can imagine the joy that envelops her heart. She knows this Child is miraculous, a gift of the Holy Spirit, set apart for an incredible, culture-shaking life. And then the dark words of Simeon stab her, heart-deep: "and a sword will pierce through your own soul also." Light struck down by darkness swirls through her mind, and, as she has throughout this miraculous, mysterious year, she "ponders all in her heart." And then Anna, the holy-crazy woman who dwells in the Temple, praying night and day, approaches and thanks God for this Child in prophetic words, foretelling the redemption of Jerusalem. I can feel Mary's confusion and fear, mixed with pride and wonder, as she stores away the events of this monumental day, one that began with ritual and closed with the revelation of very God of very God.

A More Grateful Heart...

                                                                                   

Continuing listing the fruit of a more grateful heart, inspired by the Gratitude Community at Ann Voskamp's Holy Experience. For more on A Thousand Gifts....

Thanks be to God for ...

71. ...the global homeschooling community. In my new poetry class at Brave Writer are families homeschooling in Australia (two of them), Singapore, and Egypt, plus the families all over the US -- East Coast, Midwest, West Coast, a class brimming with enthusiasm and the willingness to play with words together.

72. ...the visit of dear friends from Miami, Rollo and Sarah Casiple, my liturgical partners-in-crime who left Lake Murray in 2004 to pastor an inner city church in Miami, La Vina Community Church. I'm definitely getting dvds of Rollo's excellent and challenging sermon, including the testimony of one of his first youth who is now in the Navy and found community, family, and God at La Vina.

73. ...the relief of pain that had been increasing steadily last week and seems to be ebbing now that my crazy-busy weekend is behind me.

74. ...the stunning play of words, knitting together and sliding apart, creating meaning out of a scramble of slanting letters and printed words. The power of poetry running bone-deep....

75. ...purpose and passion for Christ, for writing, for literature, for people, for teaching, for homeschooling.

76. ...the guidance of God and resulting faith in trust in Him for our finances as a family.

77. ...an abundance of work for Keith since Christmas and the ability to pay our bills on time. Thanks be to God!

78. ...the work of missionary friends around the world, in the US, in San Diego, in our little town -- the reaching out in concern and service to one another in which the "winning of souls" is a natural result of loving hearts.

79. ...the affectionate hugginess of my three boys who stop by several times per day to give and receive hugs from their Mum.

80. ...voices raised in prayer together each morning as school begins.